Page 77 of The Trade

“So, give that one to Liam,” I say, flustered. “I’ll take the scrimmage, and he can take whatever the hell you wanted me to write.”

His jaw twitches. “This is ridiculous. Now you’re just being emotional.”

“Emotional?” My shoulders sag, the fight draining out of me. “You know what, that’s just fine. Liam can write about the football team again. I’ll just write about the parking lot outside of Haggerty Hall or maybe the new turnstiles in the arts building.”

He levels me with an impatient stare, glancing pointedly at the stack of papers on his desk. “Great idea, Jade. I knew you’d understand.”

I whirl around, my heels clicking against the floor as I stalk away from his desk and out of the newsroom. By the time I finally reach class, I can feel the sting of frustrated tears pricking at my eyes.

Why did I even bother to try?

Steeling myself, I blink away the welling tears. I know I’m fighting an uphill battle here, but God, I’ll be damned if I let this be the end of it.

* * *

My week has officiallydevolved into a trash pile. Between the constant demands of class, relentless studying sessions in the library, and the mundane task of writing the most uninspired article of my journalistic career, I’m fucking exhausted.

And Garrett, as usual, is partially to blame for this mess. He must have a deep-rooted hatred for me or just for female reporters in general. It certainly feels like this is his idea of a cruel joke, him assigning me a story about the new turnstiles.

Really? Fucking turnstiles?

At this point, I’m ready to tear my hair out. The library’s brimming with anxious students all cramming for midterm exams. It’s so chaotic, so nerve-racking, I could probably start screaming and nobody would bat an eye.

“Jade.” The timbre of West’s unexpected voice hits me like a warm caress. “I can’t believe I actually caught you in time.”

He slides into the chair behind me, his strong hands enclosing my tense shoulders. I practically melt into my seat as he starts to knead the stiffness out, his touch familiar and comforting.

“I was just about to leave,” I murmur, craning my neck to look up at him.

“No.” He frowns, bending to plant a quick kiss on my lips. “I’ve got two hours until practice.”

“I know, but I promised Shan I’d be home by three.”

“I’ve barely seen you all week. Can’t you stay just one more hour?”

“Don’t you have to study for your Lit exam?” I ask, my smile tender. “I’ll only distract you.”

“Maybe you could help me study? I mean, I understand if you’re too busy with your own stuff. You don’t need to if—”

“Theo,” I cut in, grinning at his flustered ramblings. “I can stay and help. But just for an hour, okay?”

As the hour trickles away, it feels like we’ve barely made a dent in the material. West’s dedication to his studies is clear, but he has a tougher time grasping certain concepts, especially when it comes to writing assignments.

“Damn,” he groans, slamming his book shut with finality. “I’ll never be able to learn all this shit.”

“Hey, you can do this.” I place a comforting hand on his knee. “I can help you study more this weekend.”

He swivels in his seat to face me, toying with a loose curl of my hair. “I don’t want to study this weekend,” he grumbles. “I want to take you out.”

“We can go out after your exam. Plus, once the scrimmage is over, you’ll have a lot more free time.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Besides, the banquet is the following weekend,” I say cheerfully. “That’s kind of like a date. We get to dress up and eat a fancy dinner together.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his brow furrowed as he searches my face.

“What?” I laugh, puzzled by his intensity.

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